


When Opportunity Knocks

by Dontgotone



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, No Lube, Predicament Bondage, Rough Body Play, Self-Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontgotone/pseuds/Dontgotone
Summary: Thanks to a cave-in Impactor's shift is cancelled and he comes back to his quarters early to find out what his roommate Megatron gets up to when he's gone.





	When Opportunity Knocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KasMuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasMuna/gifts).



Impactor didn't hesitate often in his life. Usually, it was charge ahead, leave the worries to later. But now, after a cave in had canceled his digging shift and he'd returned to his hab suite hours early while the damage was assessed, his hand was stopped before pushing the button to open the door. He'd figured he'd come in, chat a bit with his bunkmate, maybe listen to the nerd rattle off some poetry, and then get some early shut-eye while Megatron left for his own shift later. The administration had been working them all hard, and even though he'd only done half a shift he wouldn't say no to a few extra hours of recharging. 

Instead, he was left wondering what on Cybertron the other miner was up to. Grunts and moans so lewd he'd never heard the like outside of an x-rated holovid were slipping out through the door, and just imagining what was causing them was making Impactor's codpiece ache with the effort it needed to keep his spike covered. Was Megatron fucking someone? Maybe he was just having an enthusiastic jerk? Regardless, he wouldn't exactly get the answer out here, so it was time to go in and see what in Unicron's gullet was happening. 

It was a good thing his spike was already mostly hard. The intensity of the pressure he felt in his groin when he saw just what was going would surely have dented his cod plate outward, otherwise. "Megatron?" Impactor was having a hard time deciphering what his optics were showing him. He wouldn't ever have pegged the smaller bot as being into all this… Maybe a bit of roughhousing, some heavy thrusting… but this? 

The other miner was on his knees, head down on the recharge slab and aft high up in the air. Primus where did he even keep all of this gear? Where had he gotten it? The poet's wrists and ankles were trapped against his berth. Heavy magnetic cuffs, Even from where he'd been standing Impactor could read the timer on them. Another forty minutes. Until what… until they released? Then there was the… tower? It stood just behind his roommate, and at its very top was a quickly spinning wheel flinging straps. The sight of it made Impactor wince. The straps were whipping down onto Megatron with each revolution. His aft and thighs had very clear areas stripped of any paint, but what looked most painful were his swollen balls. They looked uncomfortable, battered and beaten constantly by the straps. The smaller miner was pushing up and back into them, exposing his no doubt aching sack to the merciless strips. 

Why wasn't he trying to get away from the wheel? He certainly looked like it hurt. 

"Ng.. Aah..g. Impac… Aaagh.. Why are yo… Don't look !" 

Of course Impactor stepped closer, closing and locking the door behind him. Now he could see the reason his pacifist friend was pushing himself back against that painful ordeal. Clips were snapped onto the mesh of his spike, tugging the heavy skin open and fully exposing the sensitive glans. It looked uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as the hard bristle covered ring placed just under Megatron's tip. The ring was slowly rotating left and right, the tip of its bristles lightly scraping the very end of Megatron's spike. And then the miner looked like he couldn't take the whipping, and thrust his hips forward. The straps of metal still rained down, but now it was back onto his aft instead of the hanging orbs that had started turning purple. 

"AAGAHGAAAA"

The action had forced the poet's spike into the ring, and with how widely stretched that foreskin was, the bristles were inside, stroking and scraping the sensitive inner mesh. Bending down to look closer at the painful process, Impactor could see how his roommate's spike was _covered_ in scrapes and scratches. It was almost glowing with an angry red color, and the inside of the foreskin seemed to have seen better days as well. 

"Heh. Is this what you do when I'm out?"

Megatron was practically sobbing, soon pushing his aft out again, the sensitivity of his spike outweighing the painful ache in his sack. "I… Impactor, _please_" he moaned, voice shaking. The bigger miner could see that Megatron was approaching his limit… And yet, the sight of his aft, stripped more and more of paint with every moment, that winking pucker pulsing and twitching… Impactor grabbed the little tower and the spinning wheel of metal strips and placed it on the floor. But before Megatron could thank him, he hefted the writer's heavy hanging sack in one hand. They barely fit, even in his massive palm, but it felt just right. A comforting weight. A great texture. And when he squeezed… just right amount of resistance. 

Megatron yelped, hips shaking, fingers digging into the berth, a few moments passing before Impactor even realized that he'd been clenching his hand. "Ng… a….. Impactor… Primus, _please_..." He should be helping him out of these bindings. He should at least be taking away the hard bristles still scraping at Megatron's vulnerable spike tip. 

The writer's voice box crackled with static when Impactor squeezed again. Harder this time. 

"Your cuffs say another thirty-five minutes. And you seem to be making quite the mess here, too." 

The future wrecker dipped his fingers in the thick puddle underneath his roommate's scratched up spike. Had he been doing this since Impactor left earlier? Had he overloaded at all? There certainly was enough of a mess to suggest so, although all of it was clear, if thick and sticky. Another dollop dripped down as Impactor squeezed again, Megatron's entire frame shivering. 

"So, you like this, then? A fan of getting these squeezed?"

Holding those bruised plums, tugging them a bit upwards, the bigger bot pressed his fluid slicked thumb against Megatron's twitching aft. He wasn't too careful since although it was tight, the bot's pucker gave way easily to the pressure he exerted. Hell, even with the pained groan from the gentle squeezing and rough penetration, Megatron's vocalizer was hiccupping with desperate moans, and his aft was practically sucking in his bigger roommate's thumb. Impactor couldn't help it. He pushed further. Squeezed harder. Megatron's spike dripped even more. 

"You hungry slut. You're hungry for a fucking, aren't you?"

"Ng.…N-no, I just… fngf. FFFFUCK."

Well, Impactor couldn't just let his roommate writhe in pain and desperate for… the bindings said another thirty minutes.

"Don't worry, Slut, I've got you covered."

His own crotch plate had long since popped open, Impactor's meaty spike fully pressurized and so eager for a fuck it had been dripping onto the floor. Megatron was too busy venting hard, trying to concentrate with the bristles still scraping away at him, trying to recover from the abuse given to his balls. His mouth was open as he panted, optics blurry and fans rumbling at full blast. It seemed like he wasn't really aware anymore of anything except what was immediately touching his frame. 

He barely reacted when Impactor climbed onto the berth with him, so the future wrecker wasted no time in pushing his fat spike up against that quivering aft. Megatron's only reaction was a confused whimper. It was all he had time for because as soon as he was positioned, Impactor drove his hips forward. The friction felt like it was making sparks. The tightness around him threatened to snap off his dick. Megatron screamed, and Impactor pressed down harder, putting his weight all across the other bot's back. Forcing his hips down, pushing Megatron's raw and tender spike into those horrifying bristles, the resulting clench made the bigger bot grunt. 

He pulled back, slowly, feeling the other's aft convulse around him, listening to Megatron's frantic, panicked sobbing and moaning. And then he drove in again, hard. His hips slammed against metal with enough force to dent. His balls, heavy and solid, barreled into Megatron's sack like wrecking balls, the smack audible in the small room. This time, Impactor ground his hips down, feeling the girth of his spike crush the sensitive nodes inside of his roommate. The motion was forcing Megatron to fuck the cruel device scraping his spike, too, making him sob and whimper, his vocalizer mostly clicks and static by now.

"Don't worry, I don't want to disrupt your plans… Twenty Five minutes looks like… I'll make sure you have the time of your life. Use you like the toy you're looking to be." 

Megatron's frame shook with his pained sobbing, his quiet whimpering. And a request so quiet the future wrecker almost missed it entirely. 

"Ngh.. Aah.. Fuck… Impactor… Please… Primus… _Harder_"


End file.
